


You Can’t Wake Up (This is Not a Dream)

by NewTimelineNewMe



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: Character Study, Everyone else is just mentioned or has minor parts, Flashbacks, Gen, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Introspection, Lovelace-centric, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, like all things I write minlace if you squint, look canon never gave her a chance to heal and goddamnit I’ll do it singlehandly if I have to
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:42:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26709976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NewTimelineNewMe/pseuds/NewTimelineNewMe
Summary: Lovelace finds herself swept up in memories, and she finds some of her feelings are quite a bit more complicated then she first thought.A study on grief and healing.
Relationships: Isabel Lovelace & Everyone
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7





	You Can’t Wake Up (This is Not a Dream)

**Author's Note:**

> Hng okay I wrote this with no plan and entirely at night, if it turns out eligible I’ll be surprised 
> 
> That being said, please let me know what you think!

Lovelace blinked, and suddenly she was in her room. This wouldn’t have been strange, not usually, but this wasn’t really her room. Sure, it had all her stuff. Her copy of the DSSPPM next to her journal and heavily read copy of The Fault In Our Stars. Her Disney sticker depicting Snow White talking to a bird on the second drawer from the bottom, right next to the handle. A photo frame showing herself and her friend from Uni, Allison, whom she had kept in contact with.

But this wasn’t her room, couldn’t be, because Eiffel had her room now. She had walked off of her ship and found her stickers and books and even her DSSPPM were all gone, replaced by the faint scent of tobacco and stale Cheetos, a hint of orange lotion and an almost empty bottle of black nail polish. Even a copy of Home Alone 2, for god knows why. 

So she had slept (however minimally) in Sam’s room, and learned not to cry about it. 

(Lovelace had once taken a singular sticker from Minkowski, a Cinderella one, having seen it while she was looking for the other woman in her room. She was sure Minkowski had noticed it, but the Commander had never said anything, and for that she was grateful. It was never the same, but made her feel slightly better.)

It left the question of how she was here in the first place. Stickers and books aside, there wasn’t a chance they had...recreated it somehow. She had never told them what it looked like, so that was off the table. This question reverberated through her mind, and she needed to know. 

“Hera.” Her voice sounded deafening in the silence, and speaking of, the ship was way more silent then it had been in a while. “Hera, what’s going on? What’s happening?”

Familiar beeps and clicks fill the air, but Lovelace can’t quite place exactly what’s familiar about it. She finds her head turning on instinct to the panel, and that was another thing odd because she had torn all of those out to fly her craft. She had assumed that either Goddard didn’t care to reinstall them again or had found them redundant, as Hera, as she quickly learned, could talk, and her second stay onboard the Hephaestus did not have said panels.

So, above panels existing? Strange. Beeping? Strange. Her room? Strange. 

Lovelace was getting a little fed up of strange.

Her gut told her to read the panel, and so she did, watching the message type out: _Are you feeling alright, Captain?_

“I’m fine, Rhea.” The words spilled from her mouth before she even thought them. “Just...a little tired, is all.” 

Rhea- because of course it was Rhea, what else could the beeps mean- chirped something else, and she glanced over. _You should get some rest then._

“I’d love to, but someone has to be the parent around here.” Lovelace sighed, a playful smile on her lips. “Anyone dangerously close of blowing up the ship? Look extra careful at Selburg.” These words tumbled out of her lips, spilling out before her questions could. Why would she have questions, though?

Lovelace glanced around her room, startling back at what she saw. The room, having looked normal at first glance, now seemed strange and off kilter. The layout was wrong, but also right, and memories warred in her head. She glanced to her sleeping roll, but it was in the wrong spot. And so was that wall. Wait a minute, this wasn’t her room at all! No, she realized, inspecting the layout of the room closer, this was...Lambert’s room. 

Why the hell was she in Lambert’s room? He must have done some serious redecorating, because gone were his stick-on stars, gone were his two copies of Pryce and Carter (one normal and one special edition), gone was the, “I dream of kissing the DSSPPM under the moonlight” poster she has ordered him to keep up. In it’s place were bare walls and a single Cinderella sticker she could see stuck to the far side of a dresser that was bolted to the floor.

Her mouth was dry as she called out, “Hey Rhea, where’s Lambert? What did he do his room?”

“U-Uh, Captain, are you feeling quite alright?” A female voice asked, glitchy and repetitive. Lovelace frowns, she didn’t mean to open a comms line.

“Ah, sorry about that, Fourier, I didn’t mean to patch you through.” She sighed, scrubbing at her eyes. “While you’re here, though, do you happen to know where Lambert is and what the hell he did to his room? He even took down the poster we all made him.”

She had expected a scoff and Hui piping in with his own quip, not more confusion.

“Uh, Captain? It’s m-me, Hera.”

“I-“ Her face froze in confusion. “I’m sorry, who is this?”

“...Hera,” The voice said uncertainly. “The ship’s Mother Program?”

“No, that’s...” Lovelace went to protest, but some beeps cut her off. She glanced to the console, because of course there was one, there was one in every room. How else would they talk with Rhea? Rhea, who ran the ship. Right? Yes, that was right. Herself and Rhea and Minkowski and Eiffel.

 _You’re acting very strange. I have alerted your second in command to report your erratic behavior._ A brief pause before the screen added, _I’ve also asked him to come check on you. He’ll be down in a minute._

Second in command, that was Minkowski, yes? Yes, and Eiffel was next and then Selburg- no, that wasn’t quite right. Lambert, then Min- wait, who was that again? Lambert. That was her second in command, had been this whole rotation. 

...That still didn’t feel quite right, felt itchy, almost. 

“Commander Minkowski’s heading your way now.” Hera informed. “Maybe you should-“

 _Sit down._ Rhea suggested. 

The ground was spinning, now that she thinks about it. Maybe sitting down would do her some good. Her head hurt. 

“Light’s too bright.” She complained, floating over to her bedroll, which would be the closest she could get to laying down. But there was something wrong about the bedroll, she realized. It was strapped to the wrong wall, was on the left side instead of the back. She couldn’t remember- she couldn’t _remember_ if this was right. Why wasn’t this right?

She hadn’t figured it out by the time Minkowski walked in the door. 

“Lovelace?” She asked. “Hera said you weren’t feeling so hot. Everything okay?”

“I-“ Words choked each other in her throat, each desperate to make themselves known. “I- yes, Minkowski, everything’s fine.”

“Are you sure about that?” She asked, and goddamn it why was her voice so soft. 

A sound escaped her throat, and-

_threat unknown unknown who **is she** she asked a question answer **threat** unknown answer her question-_

“Yeah. I’m just...a little tired.” Lovelace examined this woman’s face, her heart starting to pound. She snorted, and Lovelace found herself relaxing a bit, watching her smile that was really too precious to belong to a threat. 

“We’re all exhausted.” Minkowski, this was Minkowski, how could she forget, not a threat at all. “But hey, try and get some shut eye if all you’re gonna do is stare at a wall for a few hours, okay?”

Lovelace sighed and turned back to her bedroll. It was on the left wall, which was- 

Right? Yeah, her bed was on the left. Or- a faint memory was growing. 

She squashed it down and floated over, strapping herself in. Unstrapping her book from it’s place on the wall next to her, she began to run her fingers over the familiar words. Fourier kept bugging Lovelace to lend it to her, but given her track record for vandalism Lovelace didn’t feel quite sure she’d receive the book in the same condition, as beat up as that condition was.

Something caught her eye as she read, Gus’ metaphor tugging at something in her brain. _You put the killing thing in your mouth._ Someone she knew thought like that, a whisp of a story about contraband cigarettes and a plan to smoke saving lives. 

But that didn’t make any sense, no one aboard the Hephaestus smoked. 

_No one...yet._ A thought entered her mind, unbidden.

What did that mean? ‘Yet’? They didn’t have cigarettes, no one smoked, even back on Earth. 

No. Wait. 

Well, technically, he didn’t smoke anymore, he had ran out before she got there. 

Eif-

The name is on the tip of her tongue. 

She blinks, and he’s there.

“Hey, Cap. You with me?” The communications officer says. He’s looking at her, concern in his eyes. “Hera said you were acting a little...off.”

“You’re not Sam.” She says, because he’s familiar but not, he’s wrong, dark down hair when it should be ginger and not quoting Pryce and Carter every two seconds and he’s a communications officer, yes, but not the right one. “You’re not Sam.” She says again.

“...No, I’m Eiffel.” The officer tells her. 

“You’re not Sam,” She tells him, begging him to understand that he was _wrong_ in ways that made her head hurt, and suddenly she realizes that she’s in her room, with the bedroll on the back wall, but it was wrong, just like him.

The officer’s gaze softened. “Hey, can you tell me your name?”

It takes her a second of staring at this man who is not Sam to understand the question. “Lovelace. Isabel Lovelace.”

“Right.” He smiles. “Can you tell me where you are?”

“I’m not with Sam. Where is Sam?”

“No, he’s not here, remember? It’s me, Minkowski, and Hilbert.” 

“I don’t understand.” She admitted. “Where’s Sam?”

“He’s gone, remember?” 

Remember. 

No, he was right there. 

_You put the killing thing in your mouth..._

“Eiffel.” She blurts out, “You’re Eiffel.”

“Yes I am. Can you tell me where you are?”

“The...my ship. The Hephaestus. You aren’t supposed to be here.” The last part left her mouth without her thinking it.

“Why not?” Eiffel asked.

“You...” She searched her mind for an explanation. “You were so far away. You were- flying so far away and it’s my fault.”

“I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere.” He promised. 

“But-“

“I’m right here.” He said again.

But she didn’t want to be here. Because if Eiffel was there, if Minkowski was there, that means-

That means-

 _”He’s gone, remember?”_

“I’m not going anywhere.” A strange voice said. Lovelace glanced up to see a man with dark brown hair and tan skin smiling at her. Her mind told her he was a communications officer, but-

“You’re not Sam.”

“Well, I’d certainly hope not.” Fisher joked, messing with a wrench. “Can you imagine me with ginger hair?”

Lovelace smiled at the thought. 

“Hey, pass me a bolt?” Lovelace handed one to him. “Thanks, Cap.” 

“Hey, what’s this again?” She asked. Fisher looked at her strangely.

“What’d ya mean?” 

“What’s this going to do?”

“Get us back home?” Fisher turned to her, screws forgotten for now. “You hit your head or something?”

“You never worked on the ship home.” Lovelace was the one looking at Fisher strangely now. 

Fisher shrugged. “I can’t argue with that. But hey, it’s your brain. Don’t get mad at me.”

“My...brain?”

“Hand me a bolt?”

“What do you mean, my brain?”

“Hand me a bolt?”

“Fisher. What do you-“

“Hand me a bolt?”

“Mace!” She said, indignant. He was roaring with laughter, the group surrounded around the dinner table in the mess hall. She blinked, wasn’t she just-

“I’m just saying, it does make a little sense.” She defended.

“This ship didn’t even exist before we came up here!”

“I’m not sure, she makes a good point.” Hui said thoughtfully. 

“Oh my stars, not you too.” 

The playful argument continued, and Lovelace watched it happen, a smile on her face despite the slight feeling that something was wrong.

“Alright,” She cut in as it started to get less joking, “It’s getting late. We’ve got a busy day tomorrow, so let’s all turn in.” Everyone pouted, but knew better than to argue with her. 

Lovelace blinked and found herself in Lambert’s room. Lambert was staring at her, his lips parted in a question. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I asked if you needed something.”

“Oh. No, I don’t think so.” She didn’t make any move to leave. 

“...Why are you in my room, then? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Lovelace went to say something, but when she opened her mouth all she could think about was how sad she felt. Why was she sad? It didn’t make sense, and she wanted to tell him this, and all that left her chest was a terrible sob. Lambert, obviously concerned, floated over to her, and she wrapped him in a hug. She felt him stiffen beneath her, but he didn’t pull away. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry,” She sobbed into his shirt, unsure if it was even inteligible. 

“It’s- not your fault.” Lambert tried to assure, despite neither of them being entirely sure what she was apologizing for. 

“I didn’t know what he was doing.” She added. “I trusted him and it got you killed.”

“It was just a dream. I’m fine, I’m right here.”

“Don’t leave. Please.” Her voice was small.

“I won’t.” He said.

“Promise?”

“Promise.” A different voice said. She jerked back, glancing up to see a brunette next to her, looking at her with his warm eyes.

“You’re not Sam.”

Eiffel sighed. “You should get checked out by Hilbert. You’re worrying all of us.”

“I didn’t know what he was doing. I should have known, I could have warned you.” Lovelace said.

“What do you mean?”

“I didn’t know.”

“It was an accident.” Fisher shrugged. “They happen.”

“Captain. Hey, stay here, okay?” Eiffel said. He grabbed her face in his hands, forcing her to look at him. “Stay here with me.”

“Don’t let your focus drift.” Lovelace told Minkowski, gently nudging her foot another inch back. “Stay centered on the target. Keep your stance steady.”

“Please, this didn’t even happen.” Minkowski snorted. “Couldn’t happen, there’s no gravity.”

“What?” She turned to the other woman. 

“You’re making this up.” Minkowski turned back to the range and fired a single shot, hitting the target’s heart perfectly. “Not too shabby, though.”

“I’m- what do you mean?”

“They’re worried about you, you know.” She added. “It’s been almost a week now.” 

“A week since what?” 

“Since you left this place.”

“I’ve only been here for like, a day!” Lovelace countered. 

“To you, maybe.” Minkowski sighed, throwing the gun down. It hung there in the air. “Can’t shoot now. You removed gravity.”

“I didn’t do anything!” 

“Mhm. Fine, run away again.” Minkowski scoffed.

“What do you-“

“I swear to the stars.” Eiffel groaned. “I don’t get it at all. How can you _stand_ that guy?!”

“I wonder that myself sometimes.” Lovelace laughed. 

“Minkowski just loves him though. She hasn’t stopped talking about finally having some ‘decent help’ around here.”

“Officer Fisher has been a huge help with my systems.” Hera admitted. 

“Hilbert still making himself scarce?” Lovelace asked. Eiffel nodded. 

“Almost like he was the one to kill them or something.”

Lovelace sighed. “Everyone settling in alright, though?”

“Uh, yeah. I guess so.” Eiffel turned to look at her. “But what about you?”

“What do you mean?” She asked.

“It…” Eiffel paused, considering his words. “It would be a big shock, seeing them again.”

“You don’t think I’m _happy_ to see them?” Lovelace asked, anger starting to rise.

“No! That’s not what I said.” 

“That’s sure as hell what it sounded like.” Lovelace glared. She took a breath and began to run through her list of Eiffel’s problems. “You know I’m not replacing you, right?” She tried, and judging by the look on his face she had guessed right. 

“I know.” Eiffel shrugged. “But do you?”

“I- what?”

“If _I_ ,” He said, placing unnecessary emphasis on the word I, “Felt that by making friends with these _new_ people, I’d be betraying Minkowski, _I_ would be wrong. Right?”

“Right.” Lovelace agreed.

“Then why is it different with you?”

“What?” Lovelace reeled back, wanting out of the suddenly emotion conversation.

“Why won’t you let yourself get attached?”

“ _Alright, Captain, everything lookin’ clear out there?_ ” Asked...someone over the comms line.

“Clear as crystals.” Lovelace responded, looking out into the void of space. Her mag boots thumped against the ship as she walked out, following her memory route to the repairs she had come out to do.

“Alright. Everything looks stable, but head back if anything starts to go haywire.”

“Will do.” Lovelace said. “Although not I’m not looking forward to it- the stars are exceptionally clear today.”

“ _We all make sacrifices to not die from a lack of oxygen._ ”

“It’s a price I’m willing to pay. My very own cross to bear.” She reached her destination and began to remove the panel. 

“ _They’ll write hero’s ballads about you back home._ ”

“They better.” 

“ _I’d write them myself if this cough ever-_ ”

 **No**. She wasn’t doing this.

Dinner. She’s at the dinner table now, with everyone. 

(But not everyone, because ~~Minkowski and Eiffel~~ Rhea wasn’t there.)

“Yum,” Hui says in that jokingly assholish tone of his, “Freeze dried mush. Hooray.”

Lambert rolls his eyes and takes the packet without complaining, as does Fisher and Selburg. Fourier goes along with his joke, and the two bitch on about the food before Lovelace says that if they’re going to complain that much they won’t get to eat at all, and that shuts them up.

It’s nice, she thinks.

But-

There’s something missing.

Some _one_ missing. 

But she’s happy here, at the dinner table. Does it hurt to forget? Would it hurt, to stay here a little while longer?

Yes, Lovelace realized. Yes, it would. It is hurting her, she thinks. Not knowing, not living- being stuck here, frozen at some damn team dinner that, while feeling amazing to be in, is just...too goddamn realistic too not hurt. She can’t- is literally unable to forget completely. Another thing? She didn’t want to forget. Minkowski’s smiles, Eiffel’s jokes. Even Hilbert’s scruffy sideline commentary is something she could never imagine living without. Not now. 

Of course, there was a time when she couldn’t imagine not living without her crew. There was also a time when the most interest she had in the stars was her telescope phase.

But those phases had come to pass. Now? It hurts to admit it, but- being here, with Minkowski and Eiffel, damnit, even Hera and Hilbert, here was the happiest she could remember being in a long while.

Lovelace was back in her room now. The room that was wrong, but also right, because the room that always seemed right had Eiffel living in it now, with dirty socks and Home Alone 2. This was the room with the bedroll on the back wall, with the Cinderella sticker in the furthest corner she could find, which was the side of the dresser that you could barely see with how close it was to the wall. Her room. She wasn’t sure why she was there, tucked up in her bed, the lights off, but she became slowly aware of how hungry she was.

Quietly, she unstrapped her Velcro restraints, floating out into the hallway. Lovelace winced as the door shut behind her with a loud creak. What was waiting for her now? Looking back, she could recall with odd clarity the...levels, almost, of her dream. Stacks upon stacks of the thing she wanted most, slow realizations building up upon each other, until she understood what the problem was. What the problem with _her_ was. 

She felt guilty.

Of course she felt guilty, knowing that here was- better for her, almost. She could never truly be over her old crew, and never expected to be. Walking this station, she could see flashes of memories of herself and Hui, an argument with Lambert, teasing Eiffel with Minkowski, tossing Eiffel a coffee pouch. Layers of her life overlapping each other, wrapped up in a bow with her realization on the outside card.

Everyone has their own phases of life. Some are good, some are bad. It’s okay to miss the past ones. You don’t have to feel guilty about moving on.

It’s not going to be easy, Lovelace knows. But damnitall if she wasn’t going to give her most to this phase of life.

And as Eiffel and Minkowski crowd around her, welcoming her back into the land of the living, she thinks that it might not even be too bad.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think!


End file.
